


Verloren

by missmaier



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Blood and Gore, Dark, Established Relationship, Heavy Angst, M/M, Not a lot tho, Panic Attacks, Suicide Attempt, Zombies, based on the movie Cargo, newtmas is established, rated M for gore and stuff, teresa is a bad bitch dont mess with her, this is extremely sad and im so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-18 00:12:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14841872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmaier/pseuds/missmaier
Summary: 48 hours.48 hours until he succumbed to the disease. The one that had taken over the rest of the world. The one that had cruelly ripped his family, his friends, and his home from him.But Newt would be damned if he didn't use every minute to get everything he had left to a safe place.--or: the newtmas Cargo au no one asked for.





	Verloren

**Author's Note:**

> yo! so this oneshot is based off of the movie Cargo, which can be found on Netflix (it has Martin Freeman in it and it's super good so you should def check it out:)) if you arent familiar with it, I'll catch you up to speed:
> 
> this epidemic has taken over the world, but not much information is given about the origins of the outbreak (not a huge focus of this fic so its not a big deal to me). when someone becomes infected, they have 48 hours until they turn. the infected wear a wristwatch that's found in medkits that were issued by the government which basically counts down the time until they become undead. the undead are attracted to dark places because it's how they "rest," and some bury their faces in the ground (hence the term diggers). the rest will be made clear in the fic, so dont worry if you havent seen the movie!
> 
> with that being said, PLEASE READ THE TAGS IF YOU CAN BE POTENTIALLY TRIGGERED. there is some very dark stuff in here and it is rated mature for a reason. i want my work to be enjoyed and i dont want to make reading unpleasant for anyone. please stay safe lovelies <3

**48:00**

Newt was infected.

He’d always sworn to himself he would never get infected. After watching his friends, his family, his sister succumb to the disease, he couldn’t take it. Newt had vowed to himself that he wouldn’t turn out like them. That he would be different.

As usual, he was wrong.

Newt made quick work of wrapping his jacket around the fresh wound, which was still gushing an alarming amount of blood. He bit his lip, eyeing the offending creature who lay dead next to him. The gun had long since fallen to his side, abandoned in favor of nursing his bitten leg.

_The watch,_ a voice in his mind he couldn’t identify reminded him.

Newt scrambled in his bag with shaky hands, pulling out a medkit he always carried around with him. The obnoxious orange color ensured that he would never lose it in the lush green Canadian forest.

The kit was stuffed full, but he was only looking for one thing. Soon, he found it; a blue digital wristwatch. The screen was off, but he knew the battery wasn’t dead. They had made sure of that. He tightened the watch around his wrist, pushing a button with a bloodstained hand and almost flinching at the beep.

It read: 48:00.

And with that, his life was stolen; taken prisoner by those 48 hours.

“Newt? Newt!”

The sounds of his name being called were enough to throw Newt into a frenzy; he pulled down his sleeve over the wristwatch and tied his jacket tightly around the bite on his thigh. He bit his lip, watching the blood soak through the fabric like spilled wine on a tablecloth. It would have to do for now.

Soon, footsteps thundered over to his side, and the boy who had just arrived at the scene looked alarmed. “Newt, what happened?” He asked, glancing first at the corpse next to Newt and then the blood soaking his thigh.

“I’m fine, Tommy,” Newt assured him, standing up (with immense difficulty) and making sure to not put too much pressure on his injured leg. “She just nicked it with her nails.” He nodded over to the dead woman, who lay face-down in the dirt. Thomas didn’t look totally convinced.  
Not a second later, Minho came jogging in, Teresa behind him. “We heard a gunshot, are you two alright?” Teresa asked, the pair looking down at Newt’s leg in horror. Newt shrugged, glancing over at Thomas.

“We’re fine,” Thomas said, but something about the tone in his voice told Newt that they weren’t done talking about this.

“Whatever you guys say,” Minho shrugged, looking just as skeptical as Thomas was. “If you really are fine…”

“Let’s just keep going, Minho,” Newt insisted. “I can walk. I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.” _Oh, if only._

Minho looked back and forth between Newt and Thomas for a moment, then back at Teresa, whose striking blue eyes were clouded over in thought. “Alright,” he sighed, “but we’re going now before we lose too much daylight.”

**46:53**

The wristwatch burned through Newt’s skin almost more than the bite did. He could almost feel its ticking, signaling that his demise was in less than two days.

And he still hadn’t told Thomas, Minho or Teresa.

The three were all walking beside him, Thomas chatting with Teresa, Minho directly to Newt’s left to keep an eye on him should he fall. Teresa and Minho were both concerned for Newt, but they didn’t make as much of a big deal out of it as Thomas did.

Sometimes, the kindness of the other boy physically hurt Newt. He didn’t deserve the love Thomas gave him, not in the slightest. That didn’t stop Thomas, though, not for a moment. It wasn’t like Newt didn’t notice that Thomas slipped him an extra ration, or that he’d go out of his way to get more water for him.

Thomas was more than just his friend, even if they weren’t sure just what it was they were. One moment all they did was exchange friendly glances, and the next they were kissing under the stars. Newt’s heart throbbed at the thought of leaving him behind.

Minho was his best friend and Teresa was like a sister to him, and neither of them was stupid nor blind. They had both seen that there was something more there and constantly urged the two to make a move (and that was putting it nicely: it got to the point where Minho threw an empty soda can at the back of Newt’s head while proclaiming out loud how gay he and Thomas were). It wasn’t until weeks later that hushed confessions were made in the middle of the woods, with ghouls lingering below them and their hands on each other’s skin like the world weren’t crumbling beneath their feet.

As he was lost in thought, Newt tripped over something on the ground, only saved from falling flat on his face by Minho’s hand quickly catching his bicep. Both Thomas and Teresa were looking over at them now, and Newt shrugged Minho’s hand off. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, shit,” Teresa’s annoyed voice came from next to Newt. “My water bottle is empty.” She handed it to Minho, giving him an exaggerated smile. “Be a dear, would you?”

Minho rolled his eyes, giving her a cheeky grin. “Of course, m’lady.” He trudged off in the direction of the river, Thomas following him as well to make sure he didn’t get mauled on the way.

Once the two were out of earshot, Teresa’s hand was on Newt’s shoulder. “Sit down.”

“What?”

“Sit. Down,” she repeated, her voice firmer this time. Knowing she wasn’t going to take no for an answer, Newt sighed, slowly lowering himself to the ground to avoid injury to his bad leg. Teresa crouched next to him, pulling the makeshift bandage off of Newt’s bite. He made no move to stop her, knowing that she already knew the truth.

She bit her lip, eyes moving up to meet Newt’s. Teresa looked sad; sadder than he’d ever seen her. Like him, she’d lost her family to the decaying earth, and the three boys were the only people she had left. “Tessa-”

“I know,” Teresa said, her voice a hair away from cracking. She took a deep breath, glancing at Newt’s wrist. “How long do you have?”

Newt pulled his sleeve back, staring at the numbers that were literally ticking away at his life. “46 hours and 49 minutes.”

She went silent, her eyes moving to the ground. “This isn’t something you can keep from us, Newt. It isn’t-” she took a deep breath, looking like she was a second away from being pushed over the edge. “You don’t-you don’t have to bear everything alone.”

Newt didn’t know what to say to that. He knew that he wasn’t going to be able to keep his secret forever, and he was going to tell them, but he didn’t want to be the reason they didn’t make it to the Safe Haven.

They had heard about it on radios near the beginning of the plague; a military base in northern Alberta that had rations, weapons, and a safe place to sleep. They didn’t know if it was still around or if it was as safe as the people on the radio had said. But it was the only shot they had.

And Newt wasn’t going to be the one to take a safe place away from the three people he loved more than anything in the world.

“Teresa, I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I love you. And I love Tommy and Minho. That’s why I have to stay silent about it until absolutely necessary. I just want you three to be safe.” He cut off, reaching into his bag. “When the time comes, I…” Newt thumbed the needle, and Teresa got the hint.

“Okay, Newt,” she said. “Okay.”

He grasped her hand tightly. “Thank you.”

**44:37**

The sun was just dipping below the horizon when they found a small cave that was safe enough for the night, and the group decided to call it a day.

It wasn’t cold enough for a fire, so the four sat in the silence of the forest, the setting sun filtering through the pine trees their only source of light. Minho sat a short distance away, as he’d been the unfortunate candidate for the first watch, and Teresa lay across from them, her arms tucked underneath her head and Minho’s coat wrapped around her. Her eyes were shut, but she wasn’t completely asleep.

Newt and Thomas were sitting next to each other, shoulders pressed together and Thomas gently massaging the back of Newt’s hand with his thumb. “Are you alright, Newt?” Thomas’ voice broke the still silence, and he nodded towards the other boy’s injured leg. Newt fiddled with the jacket he used as a bandage self consciously.

“‘M fine,” he said dismissively.

Thomas sighed, raising Newt’s hand to his mouth and letting his lips linger over it for a moment. “Are you sure? You can tell me if you aren’t.” At this, Teresa scooted slightly closer, listening a little more intently, but Newt pretended not to notice.

“I promise you, Tommy,” he said, his chest physically stinging with each word he told, knowing it was a lie. “I’m okay.” Thomas didn’t seem to buy it completely, but he nodded, eyes moving up to the sky where the first stars were beginning to shine. “I can see your wheels spinnin’, Tommy. What are you thinking about?”

“Just…” Thomas sighed, then let out a small, humorless chuckle. “How shucked we all are.”

Newt rolled his eyes, a teasing grin on his face, even if Thomas couldn’t see it very well. “Mood killer.”

Thomas laughed again, a genuine happy sound that Newt didn’t hear near often enough. He’d do anything to hear it all the time. For every minute he had left. “Do you think the Safe Haven is real?” Thomas asked. “I mean. Is there really anywhere safe left?”

Newt shrugged. “I don’t think anywhere’s completely safe anymore, Tommy. But there’s gotta be somewhere where yo-we can be safe. Even if it is only temporary.”

“Even if it isn’t safe,” Thomas started, and Newt could hear the smile in his voice even though he couldn’t see it. “We at least all have each other, right?”

The words felt like a blow to Newt’s brain. Even though he was dying, he still had Thomas, Teresa, and Minho by his side. “Yeah, Tommy. I guess you’re righ-”

And that was the last thing Newt remembered before blacking out.

\---

One moment, Newt was fine, leaning into Thomas as they drifted to sleep on the forest floor, and then he was on his back, sputtering and convulsing.

“Newt!” Thomas screamed, scrambling over to the other boy. His entire body was shaking, and blood was pouring out of his mouth at a rather alarming rate. Teresa and Minho were on them in a second.

“Roll him on his side!” Teresa ordered, and both boys moved to push the seizuring boy onto his side. The three watched helplessly as Newt’s body continued to shake, until he stilled completely, passing out with a loud sigh. All of them leaned back, Minho looking up at Thomas.

“What the hell was that?” He asked, and Thomas had never heard the other boy sound so scared. When Thomas didn’t answer right away, his shock ebbing into silence, his shoulder was jostled. “Thomas, what happened?”

“I don’t-”

  
“He’s infected.”

The declaration had come out of nowhere and was so sudden it startled both of them. They turned to look at Teresa, eyes wide, not saying anything for a while. “When he… when he shot that gun and was bleeding. Earlier. He was bitten.”

Minho and Thomas exchanged a glance, both feeling like their entire world had crumbled to pieces. “And he didn’t tell us?” It came out as a question, but Minho had meant it more as a statement. “How could he keep this from us?”

“You can’t be angry with him, Min,” Teresa begged, glancing back down at the unconscious blond laying at their feet. “He doesn’t want to slow us down.”

Thomas had stayed silent during the whole encounter, staring down at Newt. There was no way. No way. Newt was smart, Newt was good at surviving. Newt was Newt, there was no way he could be one of the infected.

But, as always, reality didn’t have a habit of being kind to Thomas. And the reality was that Newt was dying and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Oh, shit,” Minho’s swearing brought him back to the present, and Thomas looked up to see the silhouettes of a few undead heading towards them. Their gaping mouths and snapping heads were hungry for their blood, and they needed to go.

Minho gathered Newt into his arms, easily able to lift the smaller blond into a bridal style hold. Teresa quickly slung her backpack over her shoulder and grabbed a shocked-still Thomas by the forearm. “Hey. Hey! Tom, we have to go.”

Thomas finally snapped to attention, pulling on the straps of his backpack and following after Teresa and Minho, who had already started to jog. Newt lay unmoving in Minho’s arms, breathing labored and soft whimpers leaving his lips occasionally.

It was all they could do to just run a little bit faster.

**42:46**

Newt stirred to a blur of hushed, whispering voices. It was still nighttime, the moon in the sky above him and the stars barely visible through the trees. The location looked slightly… different from where he had fallen asleep.

Wait. When did he fall asleep? Now that he thought about it, Newt didn’t even remember what happened. He had been talking to Thomas, and now he was waking up here. And they were definitely not in the cave anymore.

He tried to push himself up into a sitting position, but instantly regretted that as his small dinner fought its way to the surface and he doubled over, emptying the contents of his stomach on the forest floor.

After a moment, he realized that his belching wasn’t enough to catch the attention of the group speaking near him, and he focused enough to listen, quickly realizing that it was Minho, Thomas, and Teresa.

“-are we supposed to do, Minho? We can’t just leave him!”

  
“I didn’t say that, Thomas. I’m just saying we can’t afford to stop.”

“The Safe Haven isn’t really likely to take an infected.”

“So what?”

“I think we should wait it out.”

“Or we could ask Newt what he thinks?”

“Yeah, right. He’d ask us to leave him for dead. And that’s certainly not happening. So throw that idea out the window.”

Newt leaned back, their voices still carrying on in conversation but he couldn’t be bothered to listen to the rest. They knew. They knew he was infected. Reaching up to wipe his face, and seeing his hand come away with flakes of dried blood, he froze.

Then he remembered what the pamphlet had said, what one of the very first symptoms were.

\---

_“Okay, it says here…. That after three to five hours, there might be a seizure, and then the fever will come on too.” Newt read, Sonya pressed into his side reading over his shoulder. He had a government-issued pamphlet in his hand, the rest of the contents of the rest of the first aid kid strewn over the table of their RV._

_Sonya looked behind her at their sleeping mother, the bite wound on her hip an angry splotch of red against her beautiful pale skin. Their father wasn’t around anymore; he had worked for the government, and he was stationed at Section 9. Section 9 had been blown to bits by an unknown detonator about 4 months into the onset virus that took over the world, and everyone in it was presumed dead._

_This was their first encounter with the virus._

_Their mother had been bitten 9 hours and 43 minutes ago._

_Newt noticed where her gaze was, and he squeezed her hand comfortingly. “Hey. It’s alright,” He reassured her, even though he knew it certainly wasn’t okay. He glanced down at the pamphlet again. “Are you sure-”_

_“Keep reading,” Sonya cut him off, looking back at him. “I don’t want to be caught unaware.”_

_Newt hesitated, before nodding and continuing to read as per her request. “After the first seizure, a few more may follow over time. After 36 hours, the infected will start to behave more like a… Fully Gone infected. These symptoms will deteriorate in the last 12 hours, and we strongly recommend that the needle provided be put to use.”_

_Newt almost threw up at the last sentence. Sonya reached forward, picking up said needle and pushing the button, flinching at the long, sharp point that came out. The diagram on the side depicted a person putting the needle to the side of their head and pressing the button._

_It was a… “non-messy” solution of dealing with the infected, as the government called it._

_“No.” Newt took the needle out of his sister’s hands, throwing it away. He didn’t care where it went, he just wanted it out of his sight. “Listen to me, Son. We’re not using that thing. Alright? Mum is gonna be fine.”_

_“Newt-” she started, but turned her gaze away at the last second. “What makes her different from anyone else? She’s gonna turn into one of those things, just like everyone else infected did.”_

_“I-I don’t bloody know. Alright? I don’t know. Maybe she’s not different. But maybe she is.” Newt grasped Sonya’s hand again, eyes lit with a false sense of hope and pain underlying his features. “We can’t know until… we see.”_

_Sonya looked taken aback. “So you’re saying that we should wait it out? No offense, but that’s literally the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”_

_“Sonya-”_

_“What if she hurts you, Newt? What if you get sick? Huh? How am I supposed to survive on my own?” Sonya took a deep breath, her voice quivering like she was on the verge of crying. “I can’t lose you. Understand? I can’t do it by myself.”_

_As soon as she finished talking, Newt pulled her into a tight hug, not planning to let go anytime soon. Sonya returned it, her tears soaking the shoulder of Newt’s shirt. It was a long time before either of them said anything. After a few moments, Newt murmured quietly into her soft blonde hair,_

_“I’m not going anywhere, Son.”_

**39:59**

“Newt?”

Newt hadn’t realized he’d blacked out again until Minho was in front of him, gently jostling his shoulder. He’d been sleeping on the rock next to him, and his head had since broken out in sweat.

“Hey, buddy,” Minho greeted him. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

“Wh-” Newt tried to speak but was startled by how dry his throat was. As if he was expecting this, Minho instantly grabbed the water bottle sitting next to him, holding it to Newt’s lips and helping him drink. As soon as Minho pulled back, Newt wiped at his mouth, his throat instantly feeling better. “What happened?”

“You had a seizure,” Minho said it so bluntly and matter-of-factly it almost scared Newt. His eyes were unwavering, regarding Newt with a cool, calculated look. “Gave Thomas a good scare. He’s sleeping now that Teresa slipped his restless ass a sleeping pill.”

Newt pushed himself into a seated position, Minho’s gentle hand on his shoulder helping him up. “How long has it been?”

“How about you check the watch on your wrist?” Minho said, his tone uncharacteristically cold and angry. Newt’s heart stilled. Thomas and Minho had found out before he’d had the chance to tell them.

“Minho-”

“Dude, I’m not gonna waste time being mad at you.” Minho sighed, slumping down next to him. “You’ve only got, what, 40 hours left? Seems like a waste to me.”

“I was going to tell you-”

  
“-when the time was right, yeah yeah, heard all about it from Teresa.” Minho waved his hand, flopping backward and staring up at the stars through the trees. “Do we really have to talk about it? Personally, if your time is limited, I don’t want to spend the whole time discussing how limited it is.”

Newt stared at him in astonishment, then a genuine smile broke across his face. Even when the world was ending, Minho never failed to make him laugh.

He fell back next to his best friend, following his gaze up to the stars. They laid in silence for a moment, before Minho broke it by asking, “Remember when Thomas found a boat and when he attempted to start it he got stuck in the middle of the lake?”

  
It was so random yet so well-timed that it caused Newt to burst out laughing. “Yeah, and Teresa nearly tipped the kayak she was rescuing him in from laughing so hard.”

“Ah, man. If only I'd had a camera,” Minho lamented, causing Newt to burst out into a fit of laughter once more. His laughter should've faded into silence, but instead, he felt as though his entire chest started to constrict. He shot upwards, choking and drawing in breaths that were more like desperate gags for air. Minho's hand was on his back, yelling something at Teresa that he couldn't hear over his own gasps.

Minho’s hand was on his back, pounding on it roughly to help clear his lungs. Newt eventually lets out a final gasp, a mix of blood and bile talking from his mouth. He slumped back, leaning back against the rock while still sitting up.

Teresa was in front of him in an instant, looking at his eyes and placing a hand on his forehead. “You're burning up.”

Newt opened his mouth to respond, but Thomas chose right then to wake up. “Ugh… whazgoinon?” he slurred, still groggy from the sleeping pills. Upon seeing Newt awake, he scrambled over, placing his hands on either side of Newt’s face. “Are you okay, Newt? What happened?”

“I'm alrig-” but before he could finish speaking, Teresa cut him off.

“No, you aren't. You are absolutely not alright, Newt,” she snapped, giving him a glare that scared him more than any infected ever could. Seeing that he was properly terrified of her, she wordlessly moved her hands down to the jacket on his leg as Minho turned to him and whispered,

“Damn, she's scary.”

“Newt, what happened?” Thomas repeated, his voice a mix of terrified, frustrated and angry. “Did you have another seizure?” Newt shook his head, glancing down at Teresa, who had stopped moving.

“Newt…” she murmured, pulling away from the wound. Before Newt looked, he saw her hands.

They were covered in a thick yellow slime.

\---

_Sonya held their mother’s hand as Newt carefully peeled back the bandage from her bite wound. He almost gagged as a thick alone of some sort poured out of the wound, onto his hands and his jeans. It was too thick to be pus, and it definitely wasn't blood. He had no idea what it was, just that it wasn’t good._

_Sonya moved closer but he shook his head. “Stay back. I don't know what this stuff is.”_

_She did as he said, keeping a safe distance, but narrowed her eyes at the substance on his hands. “Newt, darling? What is it?” Their mother weakly asked, looking at his hands. “What did you get on your hands?”_

_Both siblings pretended as if they hadn't heard, and Sonya spoke up after a moment of tense silence. “I've seen that before. On an infected. A hardened version of that stuff was gluing its eyes shut. Maybe… it's how they… bleed or something.” Newt didn't reply, knowing she was right and knowing what exactly that meant. “Newt-”_

“Don't!” _he barked, his angry tone surprising even himself. Sonya jumped, biting her lip and looking down at the floor. He knew he should apologize, but he couldn't bring himself to do so yet._

_Just as Newt turned away from a sigh, Mum spoke up, “Please don’t fight. You know how I hate it when you two fight.” She looked at both of them pleadingly, and Sonya squeezed her hand to reassure her._

_“Sorry, mum. We’re not fighting. We just don’t agree on something.”_

_She glanced at Newt, who just stood up and mumbled, “I need to wash my hands.” And walked out of the room without saying another word._

\---

“Oh, god,” Minho muttered, staring at Teresa’s hands and the wound that was literally oozing the stuff. Thomas’ gaze was in the same spot, a look of unfiltered horror crossing his features.

The yellow stuff was a sign. There was no going back now. Newt really was a dead man.

“You guys should go,” Newt was saying before he could stop himself. “To the Safe Haven. You can’t keep me around, I only have a limited amount of time before I turn. It’s not safe. I’m not safe.” He looked up at Thomas through the blond bangs falling in his eyes. “Please, Tommy. Please.”

“Hell no.” Thomas shook his head adamantly. “No. Even if you are dying, I’m not leaving you to do it by yourself.”

“Damn straight,” Minho agreed. “Straight isn’t exactly the word I’d use there, but ya get the gist. We’re not going anywhere, pal.”

Admitting defeat, Newt laid his head on Thomas’ arm, who was still crouched next to him. Thomas stifled back a sob as he realized how hot Newt’s forehead was. Even so, he carded his fingers through Newt’s hair comfortingly. “We’re not going anywhere,” Thomas repeated, his voice softer that time.

Teresa placed her hand on his good leg, offering a soft smile that was barely visible in the dim light of the night. Minho sat down next to him, smiling at him as well. One thing became clear to Newt: he didn’t deserve his friends. They were too kind, too gentle, too caring for him. And yet he couldn’t live without them.

Despite the constant threat of being snuck up on by an infected, they all drifted to sleep, Newt’s head resting on Thomas’ leg, Minho with his head on Thomas’ thigh and Teresa draped across both Newt and Minho. And for the moment, the only thing that disturbed them was the cool night air drifting across their sleeping forms.

**35:12**

The first thing that greeted Newt as he was unpleasantly drawn from sleep was the feeling of cool metal pressed against the side of his head.

He jolted at the sudden sensation, his eyes moving upwards to see an unfamiliar form hovering over him. Newt opened his mouth to yell, but cut off as the man holding the gun shook his head, putting a finger to his lips. Looking around, he could see that they were surrounded, a group of living people surrounding them like a pack of wolves with its prey.

Thomas was already sitting up next to him, Teresa backing away from a man who was a bit too close to her and Minho was slowly pushing himself to stand. The rest followed suit, raising their hands in surrender.

“Look, man. We don’t want any trouble,” Minho said, eyeing what looked to be the leader of the group with wary eyes. The first traces of dawn were just beginning to appear on the horizon, which limited Newt’s view of the man, but it was enough. He had long, curly black hair, a stubble across his jaw. He looked to be decently armed, a handgun in his left hand and a knife on the right side of his belt.

Teresa and Newt shot each other a wary glance as Minho continued talking. “You want food? We’ve got food. We found a hell of a stash of pudding a few days ago, pal, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“Food isn’t all we’re after,” the man said matter of factly, his tone cool and gravelly. He gave the small group a once-over before his eyes moved back to Minho. “First of all, it’s nothing personal. I’m sure you understand doing everything you have to to protect who you love, right? Especially in a world like this.”

“Of course.” Minho was stunned; was this guy actually attempting to hold a conversation with him while he held him at gunpoint?

While the guy was distracted, Teresa's hand moved for the gun on her waist, but someone was yelling before she could get very far. “I don't think so, missy!” The guy who had spoken turned his gun on Thomas. “Try it again and I'll put a bullet in his brain faster than you can blink.”

“Alright, alright.” Teresa raised her hands again, giving Thomas an apologetic look. The leader looked annoyed with his… subordinate, giving him a nasty glare.

“Can't we just be civilized people for now, Barkley? We want these people to work for us, but they'll never come willingly if you start waving your gun around.” After a sheepish apology from Barkley, he looked back over at Minho, who was giving him a confused stare.

“You want us to… what?”

The leader sighed, lowering his gun for the moment but keeping it ready at his side. “The thing is, we have a big camp about a mile and a half east of here, but it's getting really difficult to protect with all the Diggers roaming around. We need good, strong, sturdy men-” he shot a glance at Teresa, “-and women to help us build fortifications.”

“We already have a camp,” Thomas spoke up, and the leader turned his eyes to him. “We got lost on a supply run, but we're working our way back now. Sorry. We can't help you.” The lie slipped through his mouth just as easily as breathing, the tone in his voice giving nothing away.

Newt eyed Thomas warily as he spoke, unconsciously reaching for his hand and grasping it tightly in his own. The leader seemed to ponder his words for a moment, glancing back and forth between the four members of the group. "Well, I hate you break it to ya, but I wasn't exactly being clear. We need workers, and unfortunately, we can't take no for an answer."

The group surrounding them seemed to jump into action immediately. They lifted all of their guns again, and the four backed into each other, Newt starting to tremble and his head starting to grow foggy. "We were hoping you guys would come willingly, but I guess we can't get everything we want in a world like this."

Thomas squeezed Newt's hand, a silent reassurance amidst the chaos. _It's okay,_ he seemed to say. _I'm here._ _Everything is going to be alright._ "Yeah, real noble of you to protect your families. Outnumbering and out arming a small group in the woods and surrounding them while they sleep is a real courageous thing to do," Minho spat, shooting the man the scariest glare he could muster. The leader seemed unaffected by his words, giving a small gesture to his group and they all moved forward at once, searching the small group from weapons and taking what they found.

One woman moved forward towards Newt, grabbing the gun out of the holster on his good thigh, barely giving him a second glance until she saw how pale he was and the beads of sweat dripping down his face. "The hell is wrong with you?" She asked, and everyone stilled immediately, Teresa's eyes going wide and Minho looking ready to pounce.

"Get away from him," Thomas snarled. "Unless you want to catch the flu too?"

_How many lies are we telling today, Tommy?_ Newt wanted to say but didn't dare in front of their captors. The woman narrowed her eyes, scanning over Newt's body once more. She caught eye of the blood seeping through the wound on his other leg. "How did that happen?" Thomas opened his mouth to speak again, but she silenced him with a glare. "I think your boyfriend can speak for himself, pretty boy."

"I got in a scuffle with one of the dead. She scratched me pretty good with her nails and we don't have the medical supplies to patch me up. That's all," Newt said, the hairs on the back of his neck almost burning from nervousness at being caught in the lie. "And like Thomas said, I caught some sort of virus. Maybe the flu, I don't know."

The entire group's eyes were on him now, the leader exchanging a glance with the woman investigating Newt before shaking his head. "I don't buy it. Check the wound." Before Newt could even comprehend what was happening, two pairs of hands were on him, dragging him over to a tree and forcefully sitting him down. He could hear the shouts of his friends from nearby.

"Get the hell away from him!"

"Hey! Let me go!"

"Newt!"

Newt's heartstrings twisted at the desperation in his friend's voices, and a wave of love for them passed through his chest so fiercely it hurt him. One of the people that had grabbed him slowly moved to pull the jacket off his wound, stumbling backward as soon as he saw yellow goo ooze out of the bite.

"We got an infected!" He shouted, pulling a gun on Newt and pointing it at his head. Newt's eyes went wide, and he could hear his friends struggling nearby. He cast a glance over to them, and his heart almost stopped dead in its chest.

Two people were holding Thomas back, the tears on the boy's face desperate and pleading. A woman had Teresa picked up, literally off the ground, and she was kicking and flailing in an attempt to break free. Minho was attempting to throw a punch into the face of one of his captors, instead receiving one to his cheek. "Let him go!" Thomas yelled. "He can't hurt you! He's still got over 30 hours!"

"Yeah, but why let him suffer?" The man with the gun on Newt said, cocking his gun back. "You do realize what will happen to him, right? He'll slowly turn into one of the Diggers, becoming more and more like one with every moment that passes. His symptoms, which you've probably seen by now, just get worse and worse until every last moment is too painful to bear. It happened to so many of our people, and it'll happen to your boy here."

Newt knew what the man was talking about. He had prolonged his mother's life down to the very last minute, and most of that time was pure agony for her. However, he would be damned if he died before he saw that Tommy, Minho, and Teresa were safe and sound.

"Get the hell away from me," he snarled, but the man didn't back down.

"Hey, Troy," the leader spoke up, shrugging his shoulders. "If he doesn't want to die, he doesn't have to. You aren't obligated to shoot him. If he wants us to leave him there and let him turn slowly, respect his wishes."

The man called Troy shrugged, pocketing his gun. "Whatever you say, Vincent." The woman who had assisted him tied the makeshift bandage back around Newt's wound, careful to not get any of the fluid on her own hands. The other three seemed to settle down immediately, relaxing in their captor's grips. They didn't let go, however.

Vincent gestured to the rest of his people. "Let's get a move on."

"Wha-hey!" Minho yelled. "We're not going anywhere, especially not without Newt!"

Vincent sighed, massaging the sides of his temples with his fingers as if the group was giving him a headache. "And we're not bringing an infected into our camp."

"Like hell we're going anywhere with you!" Thomas snapped. "Let us go! We're not going to work for you, and I'll be dead before I go anywhere without Newt."

Vincent shook his head. "Look, we don't have time for this. All this ruckus is getting us is unwanted attention. Just grab them and go. Do whatever you have to to keep them quiet."

"Wait, wait!" Teresa begged, and Vincent looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Just let us say goodbye. Please. If we're never gonna see him again, I don't want it to end like this."

They pondered her words for a moment before the leader nodded. "Alright. One minute." As soon as he said it, they let his group go, and they all came running over to Newt, Teresa the first to throw him into a tight hug. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she crouched in front of him, and he squeezed back. "I love you," she murmured into his neck, and he could feel warm tears against his skin. "I love you." It seemed to be all she was capable of saying, as she just repeated the words a few times.

Newt took a deep breath to keep from getting choked up. "I love you too, Tessa. Stay sharp. You're a fighter. Don't let anyone take it from you."

Teresa nodded, and stepped back much too soon, her eyes glassy and red with barely-shed tears. Minho and Thomas both crouched in front of him, neither looking like they knew what to say. Through his sobs that were threatening to surface at any moment, Newt smiled at them. "Thank you both. For everything."

"Shut up, man," Minho said, his voice more sincere than Newt had ever heard it. "I owe you more than you can know."

Thomas nodded, reaching out to place a hand on Newt's cheek. Newt leaned into the touch instantly, reaching up to place his hand on top of Thomas' large calloused one. "It's going to be alright, Tommy."

"I... I don't know if I can do this without you, Newt," Thomas sounded like he was stifling back sobs, tears brimming in his beautiful honey-brown eyes. "I can't. you're everything to me. I can't..."

"Yes, you can," Newt replied, his voice firm. "You can. You have Tessa and Min, and damn it if I'm not gonna be haunting you like a bloody ghost in the afterlife." That caused all three of them to let out sad but genuine laughs, Minho pulling Newt into a hug. He kept it short, clapping him gently on the back.

"I'm gonna miss you." A stray tear dripped down Minho's cheek. "I'm going to miss you so shucking much."

"Stay strong for them, yeah?" Newt told him, reaching forward and gently clasping Minho's knee. At his nod, he turned back to Thomas. "Tommy-"

Before he could even speak, Thomas was searing forward, pressing their lips together. They had kissed several times before, but none had held the emotion this one did. Newt could taste every bit of agony, pain, and grief on Thomas' lips, and their tears intermingled with each other like long lost lovers. Even after they pulled away, Thomas rested his forehead on Newt's.

"I love you."

It was the first time Thomas had ever told him that, and the bittersweet notion that it was probably the last time passed through Newt's brain. The blond reached up, wiping a stray tear off of Tommy's, his Tommy's, cheek. "I'm not going anywhere, Tommy. I'll always be here."

The three looked at him for a moment more, a few seconds of peaceful sorrow falling upon the quartet. In a world where everything had died and their homes had charred down into dust, they had always had each other. They thought nothing was ever going to change that.

However, in a cruel twist of fate, the one thing they had left to hold onto in a bleak world was torn away from them.

And that was their best friend. Newt, the one who had held them together like glue. Newt, the one who was so determined to take care of them above himself. Newt, who pushed his own cares and needs aside for the good of the group. An unselfish beautiful soul like Newt's was the last one that deserved to succumb to the fate of the rest of the world.

At this moment in time, Thomas and the others knew that there was nothing that this world, whether it be the dead or the living, could do to them that would sting quite as much as saying goodbye to Newt.

"I hate to cut into this heartwarming goodbye, but," Vincent's voice cut through the silence like shards of glass. "It's time to go."

The last thing Newt heard was the screams of his friends and their cries as they were cruelly ripped from him one last time.

And then the world faded into black.

\---

_“Look, all I’m gonna need is a sewing needle and thread,” Sonya had told him, barely sparing him a glance as their mother’s chest rapidly rose and fall. “They should be easy to find. I just need to patch her wound up or she’ll bleed out before her 48 hours is even up.”_

_Sonya had said it about three hours ago, to convince Newt to leave her alone with their infected mother to go on a supply run. Her bite wound had started bleeding again, even more than it had before and his sister was having a hard time keeping the blood contained. She’d sent him out to find a needle and thread, so she could give their mother as much time as possible._

_“‘It should be easy to find,’ she said,” Newt mumbled under his breath as he dug through another section of the large convenience store he found. “‘Should be no trouble at all,’ she said.” After rummaging for a few more moments, he finally found a clean needle to accompany the thread he had already found._

_He quickly shoved the supplies in his pack, moving as quickly as his feet could carry him back to the RV. Last time they had checked, their mother had 12 hours left, but they would be damned if they didn’t give her as much time as possible._

_Newt was getting close to the RV, that much became obvious when the scenery was familiar. However, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. There were more of the dead around than usual, and he hurried past them before they noticed him. That didn’t shake the feeling, however._

_He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was until he heard the gunshot that made him stop dead in his tracks._

**30:01**

When Newt awoke again, he was all too aware of how alone he was.

Minho was gone. Teresa was gone. Tommy was gone.

He wiped at his mouth, and when his hand came away bloody and sticky he quickly realized that he’d had another seizure. Being that he didn’t have his friends with him, he was lucky to have survived. Suddenly panicking, he felt for the bag at his side, sighing in relief when he saw that the people who’d taken his friends from him had at least left him one thing.

A quick glance at his watch told him he had 30 hours. It had been a full 18 hours since he was bitten, and so much had happened since.

_You couldn’t even keep your friends safe,_ a mocking voice in his head told him. _That’s how you wanted to spend your last hours, and you couldn’t even do that. Now you’re sitting here in the dirt all by yourself waiting for death to take you. Pathetic._

Newt leaned his head back against the tree he was sitting against, allowing a few tears to slip down his cheeks. As he fumbled in his bag for the medkit, he allowed himself to think of his sister. Her pale blonde hair, the dimples that showed on her cheeks when she smiled, and her constantly optimistic and carefree spirit that he’d always admired.

He thought of Teresa. Easily the bravest and smartest girl he’d ever known, but always making room for other people in her brilliant mind. She loved other people and the world, no matter how screwed it was.

Newt’s hands slid over the cool metal of the needle, and he stilled for a moment, before slowly pulling it out and onto his lap.

He thought of Minho. Careless and cocky on the surface, but a loving, mushy idiot on the inside. Always going out of his way to make Newt, Thomas and Teresa smile, even if they could all see how much the world was eating away at him.

Newt’s hands shook, barely able to hold onto the device in his hand. His thumb moved over the button, half tempted to click it right then in there, just to see the glint of the metal. He didn’t, knowing that it would only make it worse.

Finally, he thought of Thomas. The boy who’d cured his disbelief of love at first sight. The boy who’d made it seem like the damn world was okay again. The feeling of his thick brown hair in Newt’s fingertips, the warmth of his lips on Newt’s own, the way his light brown eyes seemed to glow golden in the sun. Thomas, his Tommy, the boy who’d given him a reason to live in a world that was bent on ripping everything away from him.

Newt glanced down at the needle in his hand for a moment, nearly shoving it right back in his bag where it came from. Slowly, he raised it to the side of his head, finger itching over the button.

When he died, he thought it would end differently. He would’ve lived a long, fulfilling life, by his friend’s sides, and they would’ve watched the world rebuild itself from the ashes. However, the reality was cruel as always, and Newt didn’t see the world go back to the way it was. He didn’t die with his friends there with him. And he’d only lived to see 20 years of life.

_You’re weak._ That voice in his head came back like a demon. _Push the button. You’ve never liked the world anyway, it didn’t take the dead coming back to hunt you to hate it. Yet you can’t even push the button, why?_

Newt’s hands were trembling again, and he could barely hold the device steady. _Just do it already._ “Shut up,” he mumbled, grateful no one was around for the fear that he’d look like a crazy person talking to himself. _It’s not like you haven’t tried before._ “Shut up!” Newt yelled this time, not caring who was there to hear him. Let it be the dead, let it be the living. He had nothing left, he didn’t care anymore.

_You couldn’t even help them. You know where the camp is, and yet you’re sitting here in the dirt feeling sorry for yourself. Newt shook his head to clear his thoughts, but they wouldn’t leave. Come on. You can’t even push the button._

“Wait…” Newt murmured, his hand falling to rest at his side. _You know where the camp is._ Suddenly, Vincent’s voice rang as clear as a bell in his memory.

_“We have a big camp about half a mile east of here.”_

The camp. He glanced at the sun, recalling where it had risen, and suddenly he was filled with a newfound determination. He shoved the instrument back in his bag, grabbing a long stick that lay near him and pushing himself up off the ground. Newt used the stick as a cane, feeling the splinters in his hand but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Through the nearly unbearable pain in his leg, he began to walk. For the first time in 18 hours, his mind was clear.

He was going to rescue his friends from the labor camp, even if he died doing it.

\---

_“Sonya?!” Newt’s voice was desperate as he slammed through the front door of the RV, looking around wildly. “Did you fire a gun? What the hell happened?” His fear only grew as no one answered him. Newt cautiously crept to the back of the RV, staying quiet in case there was still danger. “Son?” He pushed open the bedroom door slowly and stifled a gasp at the sight in front of him._

_There was blood. More than he had ever seen in his life. Everywhere he looked there was crimson. Splattered on the walls, staining the tile, across the bed sheets. He began to shake, hand going to his mouth to fight off the bile he felt rising in his throat. Pushing open the door further, he went still when he saw his mother’s corpse lying on the floor, a bullet through her chest, staining her white blouse like spilled wine on a tablecloth._

_Newt staggered backward, leaning on the wall for support. He released a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he stared at his mother. She was gone. They had known it was coming, but he thought it would be peaceful. Not like this._

_Then he remembered; Sonya. She was nowhere to be seen._

_“Sonya?” He called out, his voice shaking. “Sonya!”_

_“Newt?” A weak voice called back, muffled by the sound of a closed door. Newt looked to the bathroom, where it had come from. He leaned against the shut door, jiggling the locked handle incessantly._

_“Son, what happened? Open up.” Newt could feel tears slipping down his cheeks, the loss of his mother really starting to hit him. “Sonya, please.”_

_A moment of silence passed, and the door’s lock slid open with a quiet click. When Sonya didn’t open the door, Newt tentatively twisted the doorknob, pushing it open himself. “Sonya?” He asked when he didn’t see her at first, then he saw her slumped over in the bathtub._

_Tears were streaming down her face, and her normally beautiful blonde hair was matted and soaked in splotches of red. Her face looked about as white as a sheet._

_“Sony-” he started, but cut off as he looked down and saw the fresh trail of blood across the floor. His stomach churned again as he looked back up at his sister. “Is this… mum’s blood?”_

_The look on her face gave him all the answers he needed. He crept forward slowly and spotted the rapidly growing stain of blood on her abdomen. “She… started to bleed again. A lot. Then she turned… and she grabbed me before I even knew…” Each word seemed to physically strain Sonya, and she doubled over in a coughing fit. Blood came out on her hands._

_Newt kneeled down next to her, his fingers combing gently through her hair. “Son, please. Please. I can’t lose you. Please don’t do this to me.”_

_“I’m so sorry.” She choked on a sob, grasping Newt’s hand with all the strength she had left. “I… didn't want…” she started, but was unable to finish as her eyes flickered shut._

_“No! No, Sonya, stay with me! Stay with me!” Newt begged, gently shaking her shoulder. “Son, you can't go to sleep. Sonya, please.” He looked down at her abdomen, and other than the gaping wound on her side, there was something wrong. Something horribly wrong._

_It took Newt a moment to realize she wasn't breathing._

_“Son…” he let out one last pleading whine before he collapsed against the side of the bathtub and released the sobs he'd been holding back, his body raked with large shudders._

_In just a few short minutes, he'd lost everything. Sonya's death was his fault. He'd refused to kill their mother. Because you're weak. Someone told him, and he couldn't bring himself to argue._

_A noise drew him from his grief. A low groan that he only recognized as one of the undead._

_Sonya's eyes had opened, glazed over with that hardened yellow goo. She opened her mouth, but all that came out was a hungry moan._

_Newt’s eyes fogged over with tears as he watched the corpse of his sister grasp at his arms like a hungry animal, her jaw gaping open and her eyes a pale shell of brown._

_“I’m so sorry, Sonya,” he murmured, barely moving out of her reach. Newt wasn’t stupid. He knew he didn’t have much time before he became her dinner. “I should’ve listened to you. You didn’t deserve to die like this.” Predictably, Sonya didn’t reply, she just slowly pushed herself to her feet. Newt followed, standing in front of her growling body and staring at it like it had offended him._

_Without another word, Newt reached for the gun holstered in his thigh, put it to Sonya’s head, and pulled the trigger._

_After that moment, everything had become a blur. He stumbled out of the RV, his backpack slung over one shoulder, and made his way down the river, finally throwing up the little food that was in his stomach. Newt stayed there for a few minutes, watching the water travel downstream, the gentle noise of the rapids grounding him. He was still crying, the warmth of tears on his face never actually going away._

_The faces of his mother and Sonya flashed in his mind, blood covering their faces and a bullet wound in their foreheads. Newt’s body began to tremble again as his breath shortened, and he knew he was working himself into a panic attack._

_“In and out with me, Newt.” Sonya’s voice rang as clear as a bell, and even though Newt knew she wasn’t really there, he still clung to her voice like a lifeline. She had wound him down from panic attacks more times than he cared to admit. She was even doing it when she was dead. Newt laughed bitterly at the thought._

_In for 4._

_Hold for 7._

_Out for 8._

_In for 4._

_Hold for 7._

_Out for 8._

_Newt repeated the pattern until his breathing had steadied again, and the trembles in his shoulders had begun to subside. He looked down at himself for the first time in hours, and he almost chuckled. He was curled up into a little ball, rocking himself back and forth as his knees were pressed tightly into his chest._  
_Then he caught sight of the blood on his hands._

_Desperately, he moved down to the river, scrubbing his hands raw. The blood was stubborn, and some of it refused to leave his skin to travel down the river. He began to sob again, and he collapsed forward on his knees, bringing his bloody, wet hands up to his face._

_“What do you want from me?!” Newt screamed to the sky, at the deity who he didn’t believe in. “What the hell do you want?! You’ve taken everything from me! My family! My home!” He continued to yell as if whoever was looking down on him could actually hear him. When he understandably didn’t get a reply, he slumped down, looking at the gun on his waist._

_The gun._

_With a suddenly clear mind, he pulled the gun out of its holster, checking the magazine to see how many bullets were left._

_One._

_Newt pondered it for a moment. Then again, what did he have left to live for? Everything he had, everything he had ever loved was gone. Taken prisoner by a world that was unwilling to give him a day or even a moment of peace._

  
_Newt put the gun to his head, looking up at the sky almost mockingly. “What, is this what you want? This is the only solution I see now. It doesn’t matter, none of it fucking matters!” Tears were streaming down Newt’s face again, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care at all anymore. He pressed the barrel against his temple, the cold metal sending a shiver through his body. “No matter what I do, I lose everything. Everything I care about. And you expect me to just keep living?” His voice grew weaker and weaker by the moment, grief and pain destroying his already fragile soul._

_“I’m sorry, mum. I’m sorry, Sonya.” He looked down again, consumed by guilt at their deaths. They had been on him, they had both been on him. Sonya might still be alive if he had been strong enough to put his mother out of her misery._

_But he hadn’t been. And now his sister was dead._

_Newt’s finger moved over the trigger, his hand steady and_ _unshaking. His other hand moved down to the rock down by the river, feeling the rough, cool earth one last time. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the impact._

_“Hey.”_

_A voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he was so startled he scrambled backward, pointing the gun at where it had come from. “Whoa, whoa!” A man around his age stood there, hands raised in surrender. His brown hair was tousled and his eyes were rimmed with red from lack of sleep. He had a backpack, and based on how light his supply was, he probably wasn’t alone. “I’m not here to hurt you. And you can get back to… what you were doing… in a second. I just need your help for a minute.”_

_Newt didn’t answer, staring at the newcomer with a wary look. He took that as permission to keep talking. “I just need help filling up my canteens. Then I’ll be outta your hair.”_

_Newt glanced down at his hands, which held three canteens. So he wasn’t alone. The man slowly bent down in front of Newt, offering out one of the canteens. “So?” Pondering it for a moment, Newt glanced back and forth between the canteen and the man. His light brown eyes were careful, guarded, yet filled with something Newt never thought he’d see again in this messed up world._

_Compassion._

_What’s the point? The voice told him. It’ll take two minutes, then he’ll be gone. Can’t you spare one last act of goodness in your last moments?_

_After a moment of heavy silence, Newt accepted the canteen._

**27:33**

Not to be too dramatic, but Newt was pretty sure he was going to keel over before he walked the half mile to the raiders’ camp.

He could physically feel his health start to decline with each passing moment, and the thought didn’t scare him as much as it should. Glancing down at his watch, that told him he had 27 hours and 33 minutes, he was filled with a kind of fearlessness he had never felt before in all his life.

He’d been walking for about two and a half hours before he spotted the camp. Normally it would take him much less time to walk half a mile, but with the disadvantage of a wounded leg and unpredictable attacks, he had been slowed down considerably. Upon seeing the camp, he pushed himself down onto his stomach as quickly as he could, using the uneven terrain to his advantage. Newt peeked over the hill, taking the sight of the camp in.

It was pretty decently sized, probably bigger than any he had seen since the start of the apocalypse. A few roamers were wandering nearby, but there were people on some sort of border patrol took them out with knives to avoid making too much noise. The beginnings of a wall were surrounding the camp, but it was still pretty low and the only thing that looked finished was the large gate at the front.

Logically, Newt should wait out for a few hours, watching them and memorizing their patterns so he could sneak in undetected. Glancing at his watch, he bit his lip stressfully. He didn’t have a few hours to spare. He mentally cursed himself for taking Thomas’ normal approach to a plan. Which was not making one at all.

He used the walking stick to push himself onto his feet, limping around to the outer perimeter when a pair of border patrollers passed by him. Given that the unfinished wall was still only about at Newt’s waist, it was pretty easy to climb over and hide behind a building.

Inside, the camp looked to be built from what was once a small town. A motel stood in the center of one street, next to it two restaurants with both of their windows smashed in. The building he hid behind seemed to be some sort of visitor’s center, and next to it was a church that looked like it had been built in 1975. A few more buildings lined the roads, but he didn’t look long enough to find out what they were.

Glancing at the streets with a few people walking up and down, he scanned the crowds for either Teresa, Thomas or Minho. None of them were anywhere to be found.

Newt moved slowly using the buildings as cover because it wasn’t easy to sneak through a town quietly with a busted leg. After a few moments, he spotted a town hall and inwardly cheered. If his friends were being kept anywhere, it was likely there.

He slowly moved towards it, keeping his head down and his pace quick for anyone who may spot him. Hopefully, this camp was populated enough that they wouldn’t recognize a newcomer when they saw one. Newt had never had the best of luck, so he didn’t hold his breath on that one.

Thankfully, no one saw the limping blond as he made his way to the building, the letters reading “TOWN HALL” run-down and worn from age. Newt stood on his toes to peer through one of the windows, inwardly cursing as he saw that the shades were drawn. After moving down the building and looking through a few more shaded windows, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to see anything from the outside.

Meaning he had to sneak in.

Newt experimentally pushed on a window, almost sighing in relief when he saw that it was unlocked. He raised his walking stick, using it to pry the window open as quietly as he could. As soon as it was open enough, and he didn’t hear any voices coming from inside, he jumped up, grasping the windowsill with weak arms and pulling himself inside. He landed with a loud thud, freezing up for a moment to listen if anybody had heard that.

No one had.

Newt glanced around. He had landed in some kind of study, that looked to be unused. An old wooden desk was in the corner, a lamp on top and a few papers sticking out of the untidy drawer. A picture frame was on the wall, the glass shattered, but Newt could see a small family smiling at the camera. He looked away before it brought back memories he didn’t want to remember right now.

He crept to the door, slowly pulling it open and peeking into the hallway. It was quieter than he had expected. No one was inside, but he could hear voices coming from somewhere. They were muffled as if the conversation was happening behind a closed door.

Newt moved forward as quietly as he could with the limp and the walking stick, looking around at the different doors and leaping behind a wall if a sound got too close. Please don’t have a seizure right now. Please don’t have a seizure right now. He mentally begged his failing body. The last thing he needed was his health getting in the way of rescuing his friends.

As he moved closer to the front of the building, he could hear more of the muffled voices. They were coming from a pair of closed double wooden doors. Looking around to ensure no one would catch him eavesdropping, he eased himself over to the doors and leaned his ear against it to listen in.

“-would be much easier if you’d just cooperate, doll.” A voice came from inside that Newt didn’t recognize. It hadn’t been any of the raiders that had grabbed them in the woods. Maybe this was the camp’s leader.

“I told you.” Newt’s breath hitched as he instantly recognized Teresa’s voice. “We’re not going to do what you want if you don’t let us do what we want.”

“If we let you do what you want, you’ll leave. How is that helpful to us?” The other person was a man, probably an older one in his forties by the sound of it. Despite knowing full well that Teresa could take care of herself, his skin crawled at the thought of her being left alone with a guy like that. And judging by the fact that neither of them had spoken, Thomas and Minho weren’t with her.

Newt could hear Teresa’s sigh from outside the door. “Slaves are hardly going to be helpful workers, you know. Not without motivation. And currently, you aren’t giving me any.”

“Slaves is a harsh term, doll.”

“My _name_ is _Teresa._ ”

Newt worried the man was losing his patience with his friend, but he hadn’t. At least not yet. He couldn’t see them, but there was no malice in his tone when he spoke again. “And if you’re talking motivation, I can be sure to give you some.” They went silent for a second, then the sound of someone being slapped was heard. Newt’s heart jolted, but then he realized Teresa had been the attacker.

“Get the hell away from me!” She snapped. Despite the circumstances, Newt smiled with pride. He could almost feel Teresa’s glare from outside. “Just get your own people to do it. Why us?”

“I’m sure you understand-”

“I don’t. That’s why I asked.”

The man sighed, and Newt knew Teresa was beginning to wear him down. He gripped his walking stick tighter, ready to open the door and intervene should he need to. “We did use our people for a while, but the labor got tiring for them. Working around the clock takes its toll. So we’d rather use people that are… expendable, rather than those we need.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You’re useful.”

Feeling the situation about to escalate, Newt’s hand wrapped around the door handle and he raised his walking stick like a weapon. Just as he was about to burst in and knock the guy flat on his ass, a woman walked through the front doors, looking like she had somewhere to be. She looked like she was in her early 20s, and her long dirty blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. It only took a few seconds for her to spot Newt.

The two stared at each other for a moment, both unsure of how to react. Then, she opened her mouth to yell, and Newt did the only thing he could think of.

He hit her across the head.

She fell to the floor in a heap, and he hit her again, rendering her unconscious. His gaze didn’t linger on her for more than a moment, as the man speaking with Teresa had heard the commotion and come out to investigate.

His eyes widened upon seeing Newt, but before he could react, he knocked him across the face in a similar fashion as he had the young woman. He fell after just one strike, his eyes shut and blood trickling down his face. Newt couldn’t bring himself to care, as Teresa hadn’t followed.

“Teresa?” He called out, and the woman peeked out from her hiding place, which was behind the desk in the double-doored room. Her eyes widened, and she quickly stood up.

  
“Newt?” she gasped, and he took a step towards her, but his leg chose just then to buckle and cause him to fall forward.

Teresa didn’t reach him before he hit the ground with a loud thud, and he let out a pained whimper. She ran to his side, rolling him over onto his back and hovering over him with a concerned yet shocked expression. “What are you doing here, you moron?” she whispered, brushing a strand of fluffy blond hair out of his face. “It isn’t safe!”

“Yeah, well, I’m dying anyway, Tessa. Safety isn’t my highest priority at the moment.” Despite the weight of his words, he smiled up at her, just glad to lay his eyes on his friend again.

“Douchebag,” she muttered, no malice in her words whatsoever. Teresa pulled him up into a hug, wrapping her arms tightly around him. The hug was brief, and she scrambled to her feet after a second. “We need to go. If you’re here to rescue us, which I assume you are, we need to get in and out of here as fast as possible.”

Teresa glanced down at the unconscious young woman for a second, before grabbing the gun and knife she was carrying. She handed the knife to Newt, keeping the gun to herself. “No offense, but I don’t trust your aim right now.”

“Fair enough.” Newt took the weapon as Teresa checked the magazine of the gun. There were 8 bullets. Each of them needed to count. “Where are they keeping them?”

“The motel. Did you see it?” At Newt’s nod, she tucked the gun in her waistband. “They’re in room 250. I think it’s guarded.”

“What did you guys do to get guards?”

Teresa went silent for a minute. “Thomas and Minho may have attempted to strangle someone. And knocked out a couple. And I may have helped.”

Newt shook his head. “But you’re not admitting to it?”

“Never.”

The two walked out of the building together, taking a backdoor Newt hadn’t noticed (but desperately wished he had before; it would have saved him a lot of trouble). They moved through the streets carefully, skirting behind buildings and dodging border patrols. Teresa slowed her pace so the limping man could keep up, which he wasn’t going to admit to appreciating.

It didn’t take them long to walk the distance to the motel, and they crept in from the back. It was split into two sides, a set of maybe 20 rooms on one side and 20 on the other. There was a big gap in the middle for the parking lot, where some people were conversing. This wasn’t going to be easy, that much was clear.

“Why did that guy want to talk to you and not Minho or Thomas?” Newt whispered, suddenly curious. The thought hadn’t occurred to him until now. Teresa shuddered.

“I think that guy had a thing for younger women,” she said, and Newt’s stomach churned in disgust, glad he had given him a concussion he wouldn’t soon forget.

The two glanced around the parking lot, looking for some sort of entrance that didn’t get them immediately caught. “There!” Teresa patted Newt’s arm to get his attention, pointing at the fire escape that led up the side of the building.

“What are we going to do about the guards?” Newt asked. They couldn’t just shoot them, that would attract attention. If they attacked them quietly, it was only a short time before someone from the ground noticed.

“I have an idea. You’re not going to like it.”

Oh god. “What are you going to do?”

“Distract them.” Before Newt could respond, Teresa sauntered off, running into plain sight.

“Teresa!” He whispered as loud as he could, but it was too late. She ran through the hotel parking lot, with people glancing after her curiously. Apparently, the flurry of black hair was enough for the guards to recognize who she was because two armed people with a small amount of armor on were chasing her out of the parking lot and down the street.

Newt sighed in annoyance, working his way up the fire escape. No one was even looking in his direction, talking amongst each other in concern. He hissed in pain as he tripped on one of the stairs and banged his knee on the steel of the stair in front of him, but used his stick to pull himself back up again.

Newt moved down the row of rooms, anxiously glancing over his shoulder to look for the guards and Teresa. Neither were in sight, meaning that she had either lost them or was still running.

He glanced at the room numbers, murmuring the numbers out loud to himself. “244, 246, 248…” and he stopped in front of 250. Newt stopped for a moment, pressing his ear to the door to listen in. When he heard nothing, he experimentally jiggled the door handle. Locked. Of course. “Damn motels,” Newt muttered, knocking on the door as quietly as he could.

“What the hell do you want?” A voice responded to his knock, and Newt quickly recognized it as Minho. He glanced over his shoulder at the parking lot again, and when no one was looking his way, he whispered through the door.

“It’s Newt! Open the door!” He hissed. In an instant, the door was thrown open, and Newt was met with Minho’s large eyes. They stood staring at each other for a second before Minho quickly pulled him inside.

“Newt! What are you doing-”

“Shh!” Newt cut him off, shutting the door quietly behind him. He turned back to Minho, speaking quickly. “Look. I’m here to get you guys out. I had Teresa with me, but she ran down the street to distract the guys that were outside.”

Minho stood stiffly for a long, tense silence. Newt wasn’t sure what to do, and he’d never seen Minho shocked into silence. It took a while for him to speak. “So even death can’t stop your reckless ass, huh?”

Newt was stunned for a minute before he let out a soft laugh. “I always thought Tommy was the reckless one.”

“He must’ve rubbed off on you,” Minho said, and pulled Newt into a tight hug. “It’s good to see you.”

Newt nodded in agreement, wrapping his arms around Minho’s torso instantly. They pulled away after a few seconds, and Newt glanced around the room. “Where’s Tommy? Teresa said he was with you.”

Minho pointed to the bed, where Thomas lay unconscious. “They sedated him. He put up a hell of a fight before they got him in here. He should be up any minute now.” Newt crept quietly towards him, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Thomas looked more peaceful than Newt had ever seen him, the wrinkle in his brow smoothed out and relaxed. His hair was strewn out over the pillow, and the only thing Newt could think was how he desperately needed a haircut. And a shave, he inwardly admitted as he took into account the five-o'clock shadow that was steadily growing longer.

Newt brushed a strand of hair out of Thomas’ eyes just as Minho sat down on the bed across from him. “So what’s the game plan?”

  
Newt blanched. “Uh.”

“‘Uh?’” Minho repeated, giving him the most sarcastic, annoyed facial expression he could muster. “You don’t have a plan, mister, ‘Oh we always need a bloody plan, lads! We’ll trip off and die if we don’t make a bloody plan!’” Minho said the last part in a very bad British accent, and Newt snorted in an attempt to hide his laughter.

“Oh, whatever,” Newt laughed. “Just run like hell. How’s that for a game plan?”

Minho’s eyebrows furrowed. “No offense, but you don’t look like you’re in any condition to run, man.” He pointed at Newt’s injured leg, and Newt sighed.

“You run, I wobble.”

“Newt,” Minho said firmly, leaning forward to clasp his good knee. “We’re not going anywhere without you. We won’t leave you behind again. And that’s that.”

Newt bit his lip, giving Minho a thoughtful stare. The man’s dark brown eyes were firm, and his facial expression left no room for argument. Then Newt nodded. “Okay. Fine. We’ll sneak out over the wall, then we’ll speed walk like hell.”

Minho clapped his hands together and stood up with a grin. “That’s much better.” He strode over to the window, peering out the curtains. “The guards still aren’t back. And I don’t see Teresa anywhere. When did she say she was coming back?”

“She didn’t,” Newt said, and Minho turned around to look at him curiously. “She said that she was going to distract them, next thing I knew she was making a beeline across the parking lot.”

Minho sighed, looking back out the window. “Thomas is rubbing off on all of us, it would seem.”

Newt chuckled, looking back down at their unconscious friend. He moved to the other side of the bed, laying back next to him. “We can’t go anywhere until she gets back and Tommy wakes up. So I guess we’re stuck for now.”

Minho grunted in agreement, and Newt heard the springs of the other bed creak as he fell back against it. The room fell into silence for a moment, and Newt thought Minho had fallen asleep and he broke the silence. “Hey, Newt?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you come here? We thought you were going to… well. You know. In the forest. After we left.”

Newt sucked in a breath. “Really, Minho? I came back because I love you three. And a bloody roamer bite doesn’t have anything on me.”

Minho laughed. “Yeah. Should’ve known you were tougher than that. I sincerely promise that I won’t underestimate you the next time.”

“Noted.”

\---

_Newt still didn’t know if he regretted joining the boy by the river._

_The two were filling the canteens in silence, and Newt could tell that there was something he wanted to say. But he just didn’t want to say it. It added a layer of tension to the air, and eventually, Newt got fed up._

_“What do you want?” He snapped, and he probably could’ve been nicer about it. It was getting hard to care. The man looked startled and drew back for a second. “You’ve been staring at me like a puppy at a bloody chicken bone for the past two minutes. Just say what you want to say.”_

_The brunet was hesitant for a moment before he chose to speak up. “Why were you going to shoot? I saw you. With the gun against your head. Why?”_

_Newt had expected this, but he didn’t know if he wanted to answer. “I shot my sister.” Well. That came out blunter than he had intended. The other man looked stunned, and Newt shrugged. “My mum turned and bit her. I did what I had to do.”_

_“Damn,” he replied, and Newt gave him an odd look. It certainly wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. He was waiting for the customary, “I’m so sorry.” or, “Suicide is never the answer.” But it never came._

_Instead, all that followed was silence. The man seemed content not to say anything, but Newt was itching for something. “Do you have a group?” He asked, and the other man stiffened. It was a sensitive thing to ask these days, Newt knew. Loved ones were vulnerabilities, and people were hardly willing to put them at risk._

_He hesitated before answering, “Yeah. I do. My two best friends.”_

_“What happened to your families?” At the incredulous look Newt received, he shrugged. “We’re never going to see each other again. It doesn’t matter.”_

_“It_ does _matter,” he sharply replied, then apparently thinking he had been too harsh, looked back apologetically at Newt. “Those two are my family. The only family I’ve got.” He took the canteen from Newt, screwing the lid back on carefully. He stood up, turning to walk away, but stopped after a few strides. Newt gazed after him curiously, and the brunet turned around. “Look, man. You lost your family. I get it. We aren’t a replacement, but… you can stick with us. For now. If you want.”_

_Newt was at a loss for words. Of the abundance of thoughts that flew through his brain at the moment, the only one that verbally made itself known was, “Why?”_

_He shrugged. “I dunno. My mom always told me that everyone deserves a second chance. That means you too.” Newt blinked, and the man suddenly looked sheepish. “I… understand if you’d rather not though. You don’t even know me, and I have good morality, which is always suspicious these days.” He barked out a humorless laugh, and Newt cracked a smile, which he didn’t think he’d ever be capable of doing. “So?” He asked again, extending out a hand._

_Newt mulled it over in his head. He could either end it all now, or he could keep living. Find a new purpose. Find a new family. While they could never replace Sonya, Dad or Mum, they could fill the hole that this wrecked world had left in his once full heart. Gaining new friends could come with another world of hurt, but being hurt was the cost of caring for people._

_And it was a cost Newt was willing to take._

_He accepted the brunet’s hand, not knowing at the time that it was the best decision he’d ever make in his lifetime._

**26:21**

“Newt. Newt!”

Newt jolted awake as his shoulder was jostled roughly, and he looked up to see Thomas hovering over him, his eyes frantic. “Oh my god, Newt.” He all but climbed on top of the blond, wrapping him in a firm hug and pressing his back into the mattress. Newt wrapped his arms around the slightly smaller man immediately, wincing as his stubble brushed across the skin of his neck.

“Good to see you too, Tommy,” he said with a smile, moving his hand up to run it through Thomas’ hair comfortingly.

“Son of a bitch.” Was Thomas’ reply, and Newt burst into a laugh. “You shouldn’t even be here! You’re gonna get yourself killed!”

“I’m already dying.” The words held more weight than Newt had intended to, and Thomas broke the embrace, still hovering over him. His honey brown eyes were glassy with tears, and Newt reached up to wipe away a wet streak trailing down his cheek.

Thomas leaned back down, pressing his lips fiercely to Newt’s. Newt inhaled with him, immediately melting into the kiss. God, it hadn’t even been 4 hours and Newt had felt Thomas’ absence like a gaping wound in his side.

“Uh.” Minho’s voice drew him back to reality. “Not to interrupt this painfully tragic reunion, but can we keep it PG for the kids in the room?”

Thomas reluctantly broke the kiss, climbing off of Newt and allowing him to sit up. Newt’s eyes widened as he spotted Teresa, who just smiled and waved at him. “Still alive.”

“What happened?” Newt asked, and Teresa shrugged.

“They chased me, they lost me, and as they were walking back here I kicked their asses.”

Newt glanced down at her gun that was holstered on her thigh. “Did you…” And she shook her head.

“I still have 8 bullets.”

“Good,” Minho said, nodding at her. “Now that Thomas is awake, we can finally get this show on the road.” The three moved instantly, grabbing their backpacks that the bandits had surprisingly let them keep. Newt pushed himself up, grasping his stick that was resting on the wall. Thomas eyed him, but Newt shook his head.

“I’m alright, Tommy,” He reassured the brunet, who nodded in acknowledgment and tightened the straps of his backpack. Newt limped over to the rest of his group, grabbing his own bag that had been set down on top of the coffee table.

Minho was the one who moved to open the door, cautiously peeking out either way and then motioning for the rest of the group to follow. Teresa was right behind him, Newt behind her and Thomas keeping an eye out in the back.

They moved down the fire escape, avoiding the gazes of the people still in the parking lot and running from one side of the motel to the other unnoticed. Minho turned around to whisper to the rest of the group. “We need to get to the wall and climb over. Keep an eye out of a low opening, and most importantly, stay out of-”

“Hey!”

“...sight.” Minho finished with a sigh as he turned around at the sound of the yell. A very pissed off young woman was walking towards them, and at the sight of blood dripping down her temple and staining her curly blond hair, she had been one of the guards Teresa had taken out earlier.

“Stop!” She yelled, pulling a gun on them, but before she could fire, Teresa had pulled hers out as well. The two stood each other down in a tense face-off before Teresa fired and the woman screamed, clutching her newly bloody leg in pain.

“Run!” Teresa shouted, and they didn’t need to be told twice. The sound of the gun had undoubtedly gained the attention of everything in the nearby vicinity, living or dead. They ran past the injured guard and behind a few buildings until they spotted an opening in the wall.

Thomas and Minho first helped Newt over while Teresa stood guard, her gun raised and at the ready for anyone who came after them. “Thomas!” A voice that didn’t belong to any of their group made them freeze, and Newt looked back over the wall to see the bandit from earlier, Vincent, striding towards them, armed men and woman at his sides. “Teresa, Minho.” He shook his head. “You know, I really was expecting better from you guys.”

“Really?” Thomas said as Teresa handed Minho the gun and eased herself over the wall, pulling Newt underneath it for cover. She peered over herself, watching what was going on. “And what gave you a reason to trust us?”

“The fact that you had nothing left out there. The little blondie was dead, and you guys had nowhere to go.” Newt’s stomach churned at the thought of being used as an emotional advantage against his friends. Those bastards. “But it would seem the little kitten was more resilient than we believed.”

Minho subtly tugged Thomas by the shirt towards the wall, and the two slowly edged backward. “Guess you should be careful who you enslave.” Thomas spat, and Vincent just smiled back at him.

“You’re not going anywhere, Thomas.”

Thomas tilted his head. “Aren’t we?” He asked, and Minho shot Vincent dead in the chest.

Using the chaos as cover, the two men booked it to the wall, easily jumping over just as gunshots started to fire. “Come on!” Teresa yelled, half-dragging a limping Newt along with her as they ran into the woods, the yells of the people in the camp fading into the distance behind them.

“I think we lost them,” Thomas breathed after they had been running for a few moments, coming to a small clearing in the forest. They had seen a few diggers on the way, but they had their heads in the ground and were less than concerned with the passing humans. He glanced over at Newt, who had exerted himself more than his leg was ready to handle. “Hey, easy.” He helped ease Newt down onto the ground, who gave him a nod of appreciation.

“Thanks, Tommy.”

“Anytime.” Thomas nodded back at him, and Minho sat down next to the blond as Teresa rummaged through her backpack.

“Here,” she said, pulling out four granola bars and handing Thomas and Minho one each, offering one to Newt.

Newt shook his head. “Don’t waste your resources on a dead man.”

The three stared Newt down with an incredulous look. “Newt, don’t take this the wrong way, but literally shut up and take the granola bar.” Minho’s tone was less than kind, but Newt knew he meant well. Knowing the stubborn trio weren’t going to change their minds, he sighed and accepted the snack.

They sat in silence for a moment, the stillness of the forest and their racing hearts the only thing breaking the peace. Then, as it always was, all peace was lost.

“Oh my god, Minho, you’re bleeding!”

“What?” Minho sounded confused like he hadn’t even known he was hurt. He looked down at his side, where a part of his shirt had been torn open and blood was dripping down the side. “Oh.”

“What the hell do you mean, ‘oh?’” Teresa snapped, digging through her backpack yet again. “ _How_ did you not notice a bullet grazed you?”

Minho shrugged. “The adrenaline, I guess.”

“ _And why are you so calm about it?!_ ”

Newt reached into his messenger bag quickly, rummaging through the front flap before he caught sight of it. He sucked in a breath, remembering who that needle and thread had originally been meant for. He shook off the thought, not allowing himself to ponder it for too long. “Tessa.” Newt offered it out to her, and she gratefully took it, sending him a nod.

Teresa pulled a brown bottle out of her bag, and Newt winced when he recognized just what it was. This was going to hurt.

“Take off your shirt,” Teresa said bluntly as she moved over to Minho. He raised an eyebrow.

“If you wanted to see me shirtless, you should’ve asked me sooner.” At her unamused glare, Minho mumbled, “Sorry, bad time for jokes.” And stripped off his shirt, revealing the full extent of the graze.

It hadn’t gone very deep, but it was deep enough that Teresa would need to stitch it up and it still had that risk of infection. She bit her lip, pouring the antiseptic onto a cloth. She glanced back up at him. “This is going to suck.”

“Get on with it,” Minho said through gritted teeth. Teresa blinked at him for a moment, before gently placing her free hand on his waist and pressing the soaked cloth onto his injury. “ _Jesus Christ!_ ” He hissed, clenching his fists. Thomas reached over to clasp Minho’s hand so he wouldn’t dig his nails into his skin and gasped at the powerful grip.

Teresa threaded the needle, glancing back up at Minho for permission before she started threading through his skin. He let out a yell of pain, white knuckling Thomas’ hand and grinding his teeth together.

Newt watched from the sidelines stressfully, unsure of what to do. He glanced around, keeping an eye out for anything that might be sneaking up on them attracted by Minho’s cries. His breath hitched as he saw a couple twitching figures clambering towards them. “Teresa!” He yelled over Minho, and she looked up, cursing under her breath.

“Help him, Tom!” Teresa said, turning her eyes back to Minho. Thomas didn’t need to be told twice. He jumped to his feet, attacking the undead with the hunting knife that had been previously sheathed in his boot. Newt stood up with him, using his own knife and grabbing an infected by the shirt. It lunged at him, snapping its teeth with sickening clacks. Newt cringed, reaching up with his free hand to dig his knife in its skull.

As it fell to the ground, he looked over at Thomas, who had taken care of the rest of them and was already walking over to him. “Are you alright?” He asked, lightly running his fingers up Newt’s upper arm. Newt nodded, and the pair moved back to their friends, who had just finished up the operation.

Minho had collapsed backward, hands over his face and his bare back resting on the ground. “Mark that down as the worst experience of my life.”

“Even worse than when Teresa handcuffed you and Tommy together while you slept and refused to unchain you for 12 hours because you guys threw her clothes in the river?” He grinned as Minho lowered his hands to grimace at Newt.

“Okay. Second worst.”

Teresa had pulled a map out of her backpack while Minho and Newt talked, and Thomas crouched down next to her to look over her shoulder. “Do you have any idea where we are, Tom? You were always good with directions.”

“Not this good,” he sighed, studying the map for a moment. Then he pointed to a spot filled with lush green. “I think we were near that town there, so that would put us about right here.” The Safe Haven’s location was circled in a red marker, and Thomas’ eyes flickered back and forth between it and the scale. “We’re actually… getting close. It’s maybe a day and a half walk from here if we pick up the pace.”

Thomas glanced at Newt questionably, silently communicating, Is this too much? Newt shook his head. “I can do it, Tommy. I’m okay.” Thomas held the stare for a moment, before nodding hesitantly.

“Alright then,” he said, grabbing his bag. “You alright to get moving, Min?”

“I suppose.” Minho sat up, pulling his shirt back on. “A few stitches aren’t going to stop me, Tom Boy.” Thomas snorted but didn’t reply.

“Well if we’re going, I’m waiting on you guys,” Teresa said in mock impatience, and Minho dramatically gasped.

“Well, let’s do what the queen says, lads!” He was back to his annoyingly inaccurate British accent, causing Newt to burst into laughter. Thomas cracked a smile, and Teresa giggled into her hand. Minho jostled Thomas’ hair roughly, much to the chagrin of the brunet, who batted his hands away like a cat. Newt’s laughter eventually ceased, but the grin never left his face.

While it wasn’t how he thought he’d spend the last day of his life, walking with his friends through the forest to an unknown future wasn’t something Newt was about to complain about.

**19:04**

It was a few hours into the night before they decided to settle down and make camp.

Newt was getting worse. He knew he was. He hadn’t had a seizure for over 12 hours, but he started encountering urges he hadn’t ever felt before. His hands would itch to dig at the ground, he started twitching at one point when he saw the blood on Minho’s shirt.

He shook them off as quickly as they came, not wanting to think about what these urges meant.

Thomas walked next to him, hand hovering near the small of his back to offer additional support along with the walking stick. Teresa and Minho were ahead of them, Teresa looking at Minho’s sutures in concern every so often. He insisted that he was fine, but it apparently became all too much for Teresa when Minho tripped on a gopher hole and she demanded that they make camp.

They made a fire this time since the air was growing more and more bitter by the day and the small group wasn’t going to risk dying by hypothermia of all things.

With Teresa on watch and Minho fast asleep next to them (judging by his loud snoring), Newt and Thomas were tangled together on the forest floor, Thomas’ arm wrapped around Newt’s chest and lips grazing the crook of his neck. “I thought I wasn’t ever gonna see you again,” Thomas murmured, his breath grazing Newt’s bare skin and sending a shudder down the blond’s spine.

“I know.”

“I should be kissing the breath out of you right now.”

Newt laughed, bringing an arm up to wrap around Thomas’ back. “What’s stopping you?”

“The fact that my best friend is sleeping two feet away and you’re so pale I’m worried I’ll make you pass out.”

Newt smiled sadly, moving his fingers up and down Thomas’ back, tracing along his spine. “I’m glad I got to see you again, Tommy. Before-”

“I’m just going to stop you right there,” Thomas said, pushing himself up on his elbow to hover slightly over Newt. Newt stared up at him for a moment, before Thomas spared a glance at Newt’s wrist. “How long do you have?”

Newt pulled down his sleeve, glancing at his watch. “19 hours. Give or take.”

“This may be the last time I get to do this then.” He leaned down, barely brushing his lips against Newt’s, whispering, “Sorry in advance if you pass out.”

“Oh shut up, you moron,” Newt laughed and pulled Thomas closer by the neck.

The kiss started out gentle, just their lips brushing against each other and Newt’s hands moving up to Thomas’ jaw. Thomas leaned down on him suddenly, their kiss turning much more passionate and heated. This may be the last time I get to do this. Thomas’ words repeated like a mantra in Newt’s head, and sadness struck him like a bullet to the chest when he realized it was true.

Thomas let out a yelp of surprise as Newt flipped them over, breaking the kiss for a moment and running a hand through his hair. Thomas stared up at him, his light brown eyes filled with a layer of sorrow. “Tommy.” Newt murmured softly, hand moving from his hair to his neck, tracing over the moles dotted there like a constellation.

Thomas sensed Newt’s hesitance and leaned up, gently capturing the blond’s lips in another kiss. He wiped away the tears that were dripping down Newt’s pale cheeks with his thumbs, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Newt leaned down, pressing his sweaty forehead to Thomas’ and letting his eyes slip shut.

“Tommy?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you too.”

Newt dared to open his eyes, and was met with the brightest smile he’d ever seen. A smile that made it seem like this messed up world was okay again.

They eventually fell asleep for the last time together, tangled together in a mess of limbs and a smile on their peaceful faces.

\---

_It was weeks after the river when Newt asked him. They were sitting in a tree over the camp, Minho and Teresa sleeping below them. Technically Thomas was supposed to be on watch, but as usual, Newt couldn’t sleep._

_Their shoulders were pressed together and a chilly breeze blew over their necks, making Newt shudder and pull his jacket around him tighter. Thomas looked over at him in concern, but Newt shrugged._

_“Hey, Tommy?” He whispered, careful not to speak too loudly as to not alert the diggers in the area. He turned to look at the other man, who had his face turned to him curiously and was illuminated by the light of the full moon. “Why did you save me? Down by the river. Why did you care?”_

_Thomas hesitated for a second and bit his lip in thought. “I dunno. Teresa always said I was too kind.” He looked away from Newt, staring into the distance. Oddly enough, Newt couldn’t take his eyes off of his friend. “If I see someone that needs help, I guess… I can’t turn away.”_

_“And you thought I needed help? I was about to bloody shoot myself, Tommy.” Newt’s blunt words made Thomas flinch._

_“I thought you deserved a second chance,” Thomas said sincerely, turning back to meet Newt’s gaze. “If you still want to… do that, fine. I won’t stop you. But I lost my family too, and… I found Teresa and Minho.” Thomas grasped Newt’s hand, rubbing comforting circles on the back of it. “They didn’t replace them, but they gave me another reason to live. I thought you deserved that too.”_

_Newt furrowed his brow, wondering how he managed to find someone as genuinely kind-hearted and untainted as Thomas in a world such as this. It was so much easier to be distrusting and cold, but not for Thomas. He just couldn’t turn a blind eye._

_“Family is what you make it, Newt.”_

_Newt sucked in a breath at Thomas’ last sentence, a tear slipping down his cheek. Not a day went by when he didn’t think about Sonya and how much he missed her smile. But he had grown to genuinely care for the three he was traveling with. Thomas, with a kind heart, Teresa, with a brilliant mind, and Minho, with more determination than Newt had ever seen in a survivor. They may not be his family, but they sure as hell were his purpose._

_Thomas reached up, brushing away the stray tear on Newt’s face. Newt’s breath hitched when he leaned in and pressed the gentlest of kisses to his cheek. “I’m so glad you took that canteen, Newt.”_

_Newt smiled, leaning his cheek into Thomas’ touch. “Me too, Tommy.”_

**11:33**

  
Newt wasn’t himself.

He woke up and immediately knew something was off. He was twitchy, and there was a new, funny feeling in his gut. It wasn’t nausea, but more of an intense, desperate craving. Newt sat up quickly, hunching over and throwing up everything in his stomach, which wasn’t much.

He stayed hunched over for a moment, attempting to breathe but all that came out was mangled wheezes. A smell sharper than any other stood out to him at that very moment. It smelled like a coppery liquid, and somehow he knew exactly what it was.

Blood.

Newt crawled over to the blood-stained leaves, letting out a hungry groan and pawing at them like an animal. It was like he’d lost all control of his body, and something else had taken over.

And it was hungry.

Newt jumped at the sudden warmth on his back. He didn’t know what it was. He was just hungry. The blond whipped around, grabbing the figure above him and throwing it beneath him. He let out an animalistic growl, snarling at the thing- food- beneath him.

_No, this isn’t right._

**_Shut up._ **

_This isn’t-_

**_Shut up!_ **

Newt writhed in agony as a blur of voices attacked his plagued brain, and he began to tear at whatever was below him.

**_Hungry._ **

_Stop._

**_Starving._ **

_Stop it!_

Newt snapped back to attention as a gun was pointed at his head, and he looked below him with a sense of clarity he hadn’t felt more than 2 seconds ago.

Minho was below him, with Newt straddling his hips and pinning him down with his weight. The man had a gun in his hand, and it was pointed point blank at Newt’s forehead. “Min, what-” Then he looked below him and let out a gasp.

The fabric of Minho’s shirt had been all but ripped apart at the abdomen, his skin showing through the tears and a thin layer of blood created by fresh scratches on his stomach. Newt raised his hands from where they were resting on Minho’s chest and was horrified to see that they were covered in blood.

Blood.

The smell was making him crazy. The smell of his own friend’s blood. Newt had been so close to tearing Minho apart because he couldn’t control himself at the scent of blood.

_I’m a monster._ A voice rang with a weight of sudden lucidity, and he quickly climbed off of Minho. “Min, I’m so sorry, I’m so… I’m so sorry…”

Minho backed away, his eyes wide and untrusting. Newt looked up behind him and through the blurriness of his sight, he could see Teresa and Thomas huddled together behind a tree.

_They’re afraid of you. You’re turning into something else. Something bad._

“Who am I talking to, Newt?” Minho asked tentatively. “Is that you?”

Tears slipped down Newt’s cheeks in an answer, and he reached up to wipe them away, horrified when his hands came away soaked in tears and that yellow goo. No wonder his vision had been so blurry.

Minho pocketed his gun, leaning forward to capture his friend in a hug. Newt didn’t have the energy to struggle against the embrace. He all but collapsed into Minho’s chest, trying to match his rapid breathing to Minho’s. “It’s not your fault, you know that?” It was as if the man could read Newt’s mind. He laughed bitterly, pulling back and wiping the remaining tears off his face.

He looked back down at Minho’s shredded chest, and tore his gaze away, put Minho moved his face to face him again. “This wasn’t you.”

“I…” Newt glanced over at Teresa and Thomas, who was tentatively approaching the pair. Once they saw for themselves that Newt was sane again, Thomas knelt down next to him, comfortingly rubbing circles on Newt’s thigh. Teresa placed a hand on his shoulder, worriedly looking at Minho.

“I’m fine.” He shrugged her off before she could ask, pulling a new shirt out of his back. “The shirt got the worst of it.” Teresa looked like she wanted to argue, but the stern glare Minho sent was enough to keep her mouth shut.

Minho changed his shirt and stood up, pulling on his backpack, looking pointedly at Thomas and Teresa. “We ready to go?”

“You guys need to leave me.”

All heads snapped to Newt, and Thomas quietly asked, “What did you just say?”

Newt looked solemnly at Thomas, clasping his hand over the one on his thigh. “What if I lash out again? What if I kill or I bite one of you?” He let out a shuddering sigh, gaze dropping down to the ground. “Please.”

“Absolutely not.” Teresa’s voice was firm, and Minho nodded in agreement.

“I second that. You may not be able to go into the Safe Haven, but you should still be able to see it before… well.” Minho’s voice faltered, and Newt bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.

“It would be a selfish request to ask you guys to keep me around just so I can see an air force base.” He pulled the needle out of his bag, pressing the button experimentally.

Thomas grabbed it out of his hand suddenly, stuffing it into his own bag. Newt reached to take it back, but Thomas shook his head. “No. You won’t be using that until you have to.”

Newt stayed silent, and the others took that as agreement. Teresa and Minho stood up, Teresa running over to Minho’s side to check his abdomen. Thomas moved to follow but stopped as Newt grasped his hand as tightly as he could. As weak as he was, it wasn’t very tight. “Tommy. If I do that again, I…” He took a deep breath in, then out. “I need you to kill me.”

Thomas’ entire face went white. “What?”

“If I turn into one of those bloody things, shoot me. Don’t hesitate.”

“Newt, I…” He searched Newt’s face for any sign of remorse, but he was instead met with dead seriousness. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Please. Promise me.”

Thomas glanced over at Teresa and Minho, who was talking animatedly as Teresa cleaned up his stomach. He had already lost Newt. Even though Newt was still here, he was gone. And he couldn’t stand to lose someone else he cared about. No matter what the cost.

He turned back to Newt. “Alright,” he said. “I promise.”

**8:55**

Newt felt like a dead man walking. Since they had started their last leg to the Safe Haven, he had collapsed twice, even with the help of the walking stick. When the second time resulted in a seizure, Thomas had resorted to carrying Newt on his back while Minho carried his backpack. Newt had asked them a couple of times to just leave him, he’s only a burden, but they weren’t having any of it.

Teresa fell behind to Thomas’ side, glancing up at Newt. “How do you feel?”

“Terrible,” he answered weakly, offering her a small smile. He didn’t even have the energy to lift his head off of Thomas’ back. She reached for his wrist, clicking on the watch and reading the time. Teresa sucked in a breath, before smiling back at him and dropping his wrist. “You’ll take care of these two, yeah? Heavens knows you can’t leave them alone for more than two seconds at a time.”

“Hey!” Minho barked from ahead of them, causing Teresa to laugh and Thomas to chuckle. Newt only let out a couple of hacking coughs.

“You can count on me, Newt,” she promised, giving him a wide smile. “Who’ll take care of me, though?”

“I think we all know you can take care of yourself, Tessa.”

Her smile grew wider. “Damn right.”

**7:20**

After a couple of hours of walking, the group decided to stop for a lunch break. Thomas set Newt down carefully against a tree, trying to be subtle about the relief he felt on putting the large weight down. Teresa handed him the map, and Minho pulled a pack of beef jerky out of his bag, offering some to Newt.

Newt shook his head. “Not hungry.”

“I don’t believe you.” Minho took it back, digging in the bag and forcing a piece of it into Newt’s hands. “Here. Something is better than nothing. And I know you won’t take anything more than that.” Newt sighed, nibbling a piece of the jerky and nearly jolting in surprise about how tasteless it was on his tongue.

_“This soup doesn’t taste like anything, Newt. Did you put the flavoring in it?”_ His infected mother’s voice rang in his brain, and he sighed, leaning back against the tree. The only thing he could crave this far in was blood.

Minho looked at him in concern but turned his gaze away towards Thomas as he approached him with the map. “We’re making good time. We should be there in 7 or 8 hours, give or take.” He looked over at Newt. “Do you think…?”

Newt pressed a hand against his forehead, trying to rub out his sudden headache. Minho turned to Thomas, murmuring, “I’m not sure he’s got it in him.”

Thomas didn’t reply, instead sitting down next to Newt, who didn’t even look at him. “Newt?” He asked, placing a hand on the blond’s leg. Newt jumped violently at the sudden contact and Thomas drew back, though Newt visibly relaxed upon seeing his face.

“Sorry, Tommy. Startled me, is all.”

“That’s alright, Newt.” Thomas smiled gently at him but didn’t attempt to put his hands on him again. He gestured to the jerky in Newt’s hand. “Did you eat?”

“Can’t,” Newt replied matter-of-factly, and Thomas didn’t ask him to elaborate on that.

The four ate in silence for a few more minutes, and then they were on the road again.

**3:46**

“Of course there had to be a goddamn horde on the way,” Minho hissed, while they crouched behind a log and watched the biggest pack of roamers they had ever seen moving about. Teresa was pressed into his side, with Thomas on her right and Newt next to them, conscious but slipping in and out of awareness.

“What are we going to do?” Teresa murmured, glancing over at Thomas. He bit his lip in thought, a habit he had picked up from Newt.

“Go around. That’s the only thing I can think of. Stay as quiet as possible.” He moved to pull Newt up onto his back. “Hey, Newt? Come on. We need to get going.” Newt’s head lolled to the side, and Thomas gently shook him. “Newt.”

The blond snapped back into consciousness, and he nodded. “Alright.” He pushed himself up shakily, leaning on his stick. “I can walk. Carry your bag so Minho doesn’t have to.”

“Are you sure?” Minho piped up. “It’s no trouble.”

Newt nodded, and Minho stared at him for a moment before shrugging, handing his bag back to Thomas. The rest of the group pushed themselves to their feet, moving quietly through the forest and avoiding the sight of the herd. A few stragglers made their way over to the group, but Teresa, Thomas, and Minho were quick to take them out with knives. Teresa walked with Newt, her hand on his back and eyes alert to anything that might be wandering their way.

Newt let out a shuddering cough that soon turned into a full-on cough attack. Teresa handed him a handkerchief, and he coughed into it, the thin fabric only slightly muffling the noise.

“Teresa…” Thomas said warily as a few of the horde started to notice them. Teresa’s leg bounced in anxiety, and she pulled Newt along.

“Come on, Newt,” she gently urged her friend. “You’re alright, but we need to keep moving. Preferably quicker than we are now.”

Getting the message, the still-coughing Newt picked up his pace as much as he could, holding onto the walking stick with one hand and pressing the handkerchief to his mouth with the other. Minho slipped back behind them, protecting them from any roamers in the back while Thomas took out the ones ahead of them. Newt’s thoughts, meanwhile, were slipping in and out of pandemonium.

_Breathe._

**_Blood._ **

_Walk._

**_Hungry._ **

_Focus, Newt. Focus._ The rational part of his brain urged him on, but all he could think about was the sharp coppery smell that had affected him so much earlier. He could hear a blur of voices around him, but he didn’t know what they were saying. A gentle hand was on his back pressing into him. Not forcefully, but urgently.

_Walk faster._

Newt pulled the handkerchief away from him as he limped quicker, horrified to see it covered in blood and goo. _Oh god. It’s really happening. I’m really gonna die here._

Newt did the only thing he knew how to do. He kept moving. Soon, the blur of noise around him quieted down, until he could only hear a few voices. “Newt?” A female voice rang in his head, but he knew it was real. It was present. “Newt!” Her anxious tone grew more pressing. He turned his blurry gaze over to her, grasping at the ground from where he had fallen on his back. _When did I end up on the ground?_

“Sonya?” He murmured, his head growing fuzzy.

The voice stopped for a moment before it spoke again. “Newt, it’s Teresa. Can you hear me?”

_That’s right. Sonya’s dead. I’m with Teresa. And Minho. And Tommy._

“Teresa…” he groaned, wiping at his eyes. He could see a little better now, and he spotted her black hair tied back in a ponytail and falling in strands over her shoulder. She smiled back at him, brushing a blond lock out of his eyes.

“Hey, buddy.” Minho’s voice from the other side of him greeted, and Minho and Thomas were both there, Minho’s eyes filled with compassion and Thomas’ with worry.

“What happened?” Newt groaned, his voice coming out hoarse. Thomas’ hand rested on his forehead, and he grimaced at how hot it was.

“You fell over and you started…” he glanced at a spot beside him. “Digging… in the ground. Like one of… them.” Thomas’ voice came out choked up like he was trying to hold back his tears. “Then you passed out. We pulled you out.”

“What…” Newt murmured. “But… that doesn’t make any sense. I was walking… and then I heard Teresa’s voice and I was on the ground…” His voice suddenly was filled with raw panic. “How long has it been? When did I pass out?”

Thomas exchanged a glance with Teresa. “An hour and a half ago.”

“An hour and a half-” Newt was indignant. “And you haven’t been walking this whole time?”

“I carried you,” Minho said, placing a comforting hand on his knee. “We’re almost there, buddy. We can see it from here.”

All three of them aided Newt in sitting up against a tree, and Newt could barely make out a huge span of land. A tall wall, nothing like the one in the labor town, stood guard around a portion of it, and only a few roamers were wandering the area. There seemed to be some sort of podium where someone was standing watch.

“We made it.” Thomas’s voice was the clearest thing he’d heard in hours, and he looked over at the brunet, a weak smile spreading on his face. The hope in Thomas’ voice was bittersweet, as they knew that this was the end.

Newt was gone.

Tears were already streaming down Thomas’ face, and Teresa and Minho looked two seconds away from crying their eyes out. Newt attempted to smile wider. “Haven’t we already said our bloody goodbyes?”

All three of them let out a laugh combined with a sob, and they enveloped him in a group hug for the last time. None of them were holding back now, their tears all dripping down onto Newt’s lap. Their foreheads were all pressed together, and Newt said the one thing he could think of that accurately determined what he felt in that moment.

“I love you. I love all three of you so much.”

They pulled away, all four of them with red and puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. Even though Newt wasn’t the same for all of them, it felt like a piece of each of their souls was dying with him.

Teresa was losing the one who had inspired her that things could get better.

Minho was losing the spark that ignited his determined nature and ability to survive.

Thomas was losing the man he had saved by the river. The one who thought suicide was the solution to losing his family. The one who he had found a new family in. Thomas was losing the love of his life.

“Teresa,” Minho said gently, standing up and taking her hand. His eyes communicated what he wanted her to do, and she took a deep breath. The two looked back at their friend for the last time. Weak, pale, blood and goo dripping down his cheeks, but a slight smile on his face. Newt had been a beacon of light for them.

But no light lasted forever.

Teresa and Minho turned away and moved towards the Safe Haven, hand in hand.

“Newt…” Thomas could only get his name out before he collapsed into his chest, crying into his shirt and grabbing fistfuls of fabric. Newt reached up to card his fingers soothingly through Thomas’ hair.

“Tommy.” He pleaded, gently tipping Thomas’ jaw to look him in the eyes. Newt’s brown eyes that reminded Thomas so much of soil on a warm summer day were clouded over, giving the normally beautiful color a sickening shade of grey. “I love you. Alright? With all of my heart. Nothing is ever gonna change that.”

“Newt… if we ever meet again… in a new life…” Thomas sighed, grasping Newt’s hand. “Marry me.”

He said it so firmly and so seriously that it stunned Newt into silence. Then, his face broke into an impossibly wide grin, a fresh wave of tears streaming down his cheeks. “Tommy. When we see each other again, I’d be happy to do just that.”

Thomas smiled along with Newt, leaning his forehead against the blond’s. “Glad to hear it.”

They went silent for another moment, then the sound of Thomas’ rummaging through his bag alarmed Newt enough to open his eyes. “Shh. Close your eyes, Newt.” Newt, with a wave of sudden calmness washing over him, did just that, his eyes slipping shut and focusing on the sound of Thomas’ breathing.

“Do you remember that night when we couldn’t sleep?” Thomas started, and Newt chuckled.

“Which one?”

Thomas forced himself to laugh, despite the mental weight of the object he held in his hands. “Fair point. I meant the one where I was humming, and you asked me what I was singing.”

“And you got all distant and moody? Yeah, I remember.”

Thomas bit his lip, hand moving to gently stroke Newt’s cheek with his thumb. “I didn’t tell you because it was a lullaby my mother used to sing to me.”

Newt furrowed his eyebrows but kept his eyes shut. “Your mother?”

Thomas nodded. “Yeah. It’s still… too hard to talk about her. But the song keeps me… calm. When I’m sad. Maybe it’s because it’s how she always comforted me when I was a kid.” The needle in his hand felt like it was burning Thomas suddenly. “It’s the only thing I have left of her.”

Newt bit his lip. “Can I hear it again?”

“I would’ve done it even if you hadn’t asked.” Thomas allowed a grin to slip through his features, despite the fact that he could barely see through his own tears. He continued to stroke Newt’s cheek, and Newt leaned into the touch, visibly weakening with each passing second. Thomas started to hum the sweet melody, and Newt slipped into a visibly more relaxed state.

Thomas wasn’t the best singer, but he mimicked the way his mother’s voice comforted him through all these years, and the words began to leave his lips.

“ _And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain,_  
_Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders._ ”

Newt’s face flickered with recognition. “That’s a Beatles song, Tommy.”

Thomas ceased his humming for a brief second. “Yeah.” Newt hummed in appreciation, and he leaned his head back against the tree.

“ _For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool_  
_By making his world a little colder._ ”

Newt was slipping out of consciousness, Thomas could see it. The gentle wind rippled through his hair, and the stressed furrow in his brow Thomas thought would always be there had smoothed out. For a brief moment, he looked at peace.

“ _Hey Jude, don't let me down_  
_You have found her, now go and get her_  
_Remember to let her into your heart_  
_Then you can start to make it better._ ”

Thomas brought up the needle to the side of Newt’s head, but Newt didn’t even seem to feel it. Combined with Thomas’ singing and his failing consciousness, he didn’t even appear to be present in the world.

His finger hovered over the button.

“ _Hey Jude, don't make it bad_  
_Take a sad song and make it better._ ”

He eyed Newt for the last time. A smile had slipped onto the blond’s face, and despite the fact that he was dying, and he knew that he was completely at the mercy of Thomas, he was happy. The three that had given him something to live for were safe. He was in the arms of his first love, his last love. In the bittersweetness of the moment, he brought his hand up to the one that was resting on his cheek.

“ _Remember to let her under your skin…_ ” Thomas trailed off as blood began traveling down Newt’s temple, and the hand that had been resting on his fell to the ground. His hand slipped down from Newt’s face, and he threw the needle away as far as he could.

“ _Then you’ll begin to make it…_ ” Thomas let out the sobs he had been holding as he pulled Newt’s limp body into his chest.

Newt had died with a smile on his face.

\---

Thomas rejoined Teresa and Minho when he could manage to drag himself away from Newt’s body. Which he assumed was a long time, but he wasn’t keeping track.

Teresa and Minho had been waiting a short distance away, and as soon as they heard his footsteps, they turned around. It was clear they had been crying as much as Thomas had, judging by their bloodshot eyes.

“Hey, guys.” Thomas' voice came out hoarse, and it didn’t warrant a verbal response. Instead, Teresa threw her arms around his middle so forcefully he nearly fell over. Thomas returned the hug without hesitation, resting his chin on top of her head. He looked over at Minho, who was just gazing at them sadly. Thomas offered an arm out, and Minho walked over, gently wrapping his arms around both of them, sandwiching Teresa in the middle.

The three didn’t move for a while, spooked only by a few roamers walking their way. They broke the embrace, and Minho flicked his head. “We should go.”

Thomas nodded, and Teresa followed them without another word.

\---

The gates of the Safe Haven looked so much larger up close. It towered over them, seemingly operated by a large mechanical gate. A perch was right next to the gate, as high as the gate.

And there was someone keeping watch.

“Stop!” She yelled as she spotted the approaching trio, pointing a massive gun at them. Thomas recognized it as an automatic. “Who are you?”

Thomas raised his hands in surrender. “We heard about this place a long time ago. We wanted to know if you guys were still taking new people in.” The woman went silent for a second, talking into a walkie-talkie before speaking to them again.

“Drop your weapons!”

Minho and Teresa looked at Thomas hesitantly, who just shrugged and pulled his gun out of its holster and setting his knife on the ground. The other two followed his lead, staring expectantly up at the woman.

She surveyed them for a minute, before climbing down the ladder connected to the perch. As she walked towards them, Thomas gave her a quick once-over. She had short black hair, warm brown skin and looked to be maybe a couple years older than them. She had left the automatic gun on the perch, but she was carrying a handgun in the holster on her waist.

The woman stopped in front of their weapons and looked at them with pursed lips and a hand on her hip. “You guys look like shit.” They gave her a blank look in response. “Come on, you three. And take your weapons.”

“Why did you have us drop them in the first place?” Minho asked as he picked up his gun. She turned to look at them, giving him a knowing smirk.

“I was trying to see if you’d listen or if you’d be a threat.” The woman led them towards the gates, speaking as she did so. “My name is Brenda. Before I can let you guys get situated, I need to take you to the man in charge. Not to worry, though. I can tell you’re half decent people.”

They glanced at each other silently, not entirely trusting of the new person, but a sense of peace settling in their chests for the first time in what felt like forever. Brenda spoke into her walkie, and the gates almost immediately began to open. As they did, she crossed her arms and smiled.

“Welcome to the Safe Haven.”

**Author's Note:**

> so. um... im sorry?
> 
> special shoutout to my discord pals who never hesitated to scream how much they hated/loved me whenever i dropped a snippet of this. love you guys!!!<3
> 
> feel free to scream at me on tumblr! @your-local-geek


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